Skin Tone and Family: Love Is a Family Affair

Whenever I looked into the mirror, I never saw a reflection of her, so for years I often wondered why she always told me, "You look just like me."

It wasn't until around 2008 when Mom visited my office that I learned why. I introduced her to the custodian that day. The custodian replied, "Oh, she looks just like you." Suddenly, my Mom jerked around and answered, "You think so?" You're one of the few people who have ever said that. Actually, she looks like her Dad." http://blog.ideafit.com/blogs/gsf/how-to-improve-skin-color-naturally

I can't tell you how shocked I was not only hearing those words, but visualizing Mom's expression when she uttered them. Now, years later I had my answer and it came directly from Mom's mouth. It was at that exact moment I realized that Mom, just like a protective animal whose instincts automatically kicks in to protect their young, used her loving motherly tactics all these years to protect my emotional state, thus my mental complex. Mom used her motherly skills and "know how" to shape a healthy identity within me.

You see, I've long known that even within the Black race there's a sense of bigotry and hidden hegemony where skin color is concerned. What would one term this sort of racism? Intraracism, interracism, inner racism? Who knows? What I've experienced is the lighter the skin tone, the more advances you'd reeive in life. I grew up hearing lighter skin toned girls fondly referred to as bright skin, red, yellow bone. They appeared to be favored by most and were considered the prettiest girls in school. For me, something was wrong with that picture (ideology) because whenever I looked into the mirror, I saw beauty existing in my dark skin.

From a very early age, I remember countless incidences at Mom's side whether it was a funeral, family reunion and/or the like. People remembered which child I was due to my dark skin tone. One of my Mom's friends said, "Oh, I know exactly which one you are. You're Cherrye, the dark one." Although Mom tried to hide it, I could see how incensed she became. How dare anyone identify her baby by skin color! I heard messages such as this, and more, all my young life. The more I heard these words, the more Mom would say, "You look just like me."

I was confused by her conviction, but I never confessed. I never saw an image of my face within hers. I always felt that I did favor my Dad's skin tone because I am the darkest of my siblings. I've always had that "chocolate" hue and/or overtone, and my siblings are a golden brown, but I never shared my inner thoughts with Mom. As honored as I was to share in her beauty, somehow I felt she'd be the one with hurt feelings.

In my eyes, I saw reflections of my younger brother and sister. I am darker than the rest. What I noticed, however, was my Mom never used skin tone when referring to her children. Why would she? Along with our Dad, Mom spent time rearing each of us having deep self-assurance and love for self. They bragged on our intelligences and performances whenever warranted.

As time moves on, I'm reminded of profound divisions among races of people, especially when there are high profile cases in the media. Seemingly, we read and hear stark differences in opinions, but not based on right/wrong; just/unjust, and morals/values, but on the color of one's skin tone.